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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617620">Dissecting the Consequences</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetic_Poltergeist/pseuds/Poetic_Poltergeist'>Poetic_Poltergeist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vampyr (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Broken Bones, Dissection, Gross, Intestines, M/M, Medical Procedures, Organ Removal, Ruptured Organs, Sawbones - Freeform, Sexual Tension, Surgery, Torture, Turned McCullum, Turned Swansea, Vivisection, Without Your Approval, dragon - Freeform, evil doctor - Freeform, evil!Jonathan, red eyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:02:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetic_Poltergeist/pseuds/Poetic_Poltergeist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After accidentally unleashing the skal plague upon London, Doctor Swansea swore to dedicate his mind and body to experimentation for the greater good. Doctor Reid has some ideas on how to further said research.</p><p>(A self-indulgent fic where Reid dissects Swansea.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Reid &amp; Edgar Swansea, Jonathan Reid/Edgar Swansea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dissecting the Consequences</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was surprised to discover a distinct lack of dissection fics in this fandom. With questionable doctors and immortals co-existing, it was only logical. </p><p>Special thanks to the wonderful BlueEyedArcher for beta reading, assisting with dialogue, and coming up with a title.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A cold and sharp, albeit unnecessary breath cut through his lungs at the proposition. He had been willing to give himself up to science but vivisection?</p><p>“Jonathan, please! You can’t be serious!”</p><p>	Crimson lips, plump with stolen blood pulled back into an unnerving grin. “Of course I am, Edgar. Would it not be an apt opportunity to learn about vampire anatomy?” Reid purred, walking while trailing his fingers across the polished wood of the desk until he stood behind the hospital administrator. </p><p>	Despite Reid not needing to breathe, Swansea could feel his sire’s chilling breath upon the back of his neck, making him shudder. Idly he wondered if Jonathan chose to breathe to elicit such a response, or if it was a thoughtless habit.</p><p>	“You promised to give yourself up to science, Edgar. For everyone who died in the epidemic! Everyone who was torn apart by skals! The victims of your malpractice.” Jonathan’s claws brushed over his nape, tracing his spine in an almost tender caress.</p><p>	A tumorous lump was forming in the smaller man’s throat as his mouth worked helplessly trying for a reply. “But to be cut open and explored while retaining awareness? That is akin to torture!”</p><p>	Dark laughter echoed from the parasite, creeping down his spine and ending in another trembling shudder. “You speak as if you do not deserve torture. After what you did to poor Harriet, transforming her into a puppet of agony tugged by strings of hate. Every moment she spent as that creature, what you made her into, was torture.”</p><p>	“I could not have known-”</p><p>	“Oh?” The monster with abyssal scleras dragged his claws to the front of his friend’s neck, leaving angry scratches in their wake before pressing into his trachea invoking silence. “I doubt she knew what you were doing to her either, nor did the belated Lady Ashbury who burned herself alive after what you did.”</p><p>	Despite being released from his maker’s claws, Swansea felt choked as the icy fingers tipped with instruments of destruction found their way beneath his coat and shirt to press into his shoulders instead. “Surely what I endured at the hands of Priwen was enough? You said it yourself, by feeding me your blood you ensured I would suffer. To ‘face an eternity of guilt’ -- I believe your exact words were.”</p><p>	“No, Edgar. I see now that I was wrong in my judgement,” Jonathan hissed into his ear, withdrawing his hands and bringing the white coat along. “You deserved punishment for the plague you wrought upon London, and yet you think this curse is a gift. No, I have rewarded you for your crimes, haven’t I?” Bringing the coat over the frighted man’s trembling shoulders, he tugged it free and allowed it to hang at the arms Swansea held against his desk to support himself from collapsing forward.</p><p>	Mouth and throat having gone dry finding himself unable to speak or swallow, the mousey grey-tipped man stood in silence as the beast which devoured London pressed his palm to his front, just above his hips, while leaning further into him. His free hand reached across the desk to grasp the token skull, bringing it to his face until he was eye to eye with it. </p><p>	“Perhaps it would be more suiting to rip out your throat and take back the immortality I bestowed upon you,” a sensual purr rumbled below the sinister words. Grip tightening, the doctor discarded the skull, causing it to fall onto the desk and roll off the edge with a deafening and hollow clatter. Grabbing Swansea’s head instead, he knotted his fingers in the dull hair, tugging painfully on his scalp, tilting his neck to the side so he may brush lips, tongue, and teeth over his exposed artery.</p><p>	“No- Please! Jonathan, don’t!” he squealed like a rat caught in the claws of a sadistic feline.</p><p>	“Unlike what you did to poor Harriet I will allow you the choice,” Reid hissed, releasing his grip on Swansea’s scalp to cup his chin. “To be a lab rat, or to die.”</p><p>	Edgar swallowed hard. “Jonathan, please don’t kill me!” His pleads were nearly a sob. “I’ll do it, just don’t let me die!” </p><p>	“Good.” Reid buried his face into the junction between his progeny’s neck and shoulder, tracing his deadly teeth over the pulsating flesh and threatening to bite. Instead, he tugged at the pale skin before guiding his progeny from his seat and towards the operating theatre.</p><p>	Paying no mind to either of the doctors, the hospital staff continued their rounds while their meek administrator trembled and trailed after the cold head surgeon. A hand placed between his shoulder blades quelling any temptation of escape that Swansea may develop. Walking bravely, the smaller ekon felt as if he was pretending to be himself, hiding his utter terror regarding the experiment his sire was about to subject him to. Running was hopeless, Reid was faster and more robust than he, and had settled himself into his progeny’s thoughts.</p><p>Opening the door to the operating theatre as if he were still a gentleman and not a monster, Jonathan gave a sardonic bow and a quiet “After you.”</p><p>The sterile theatre had grown an oppressive aura tonight as it awaited to swallow the man and drink in his tortured anguish. In the centre of the room sat the table where both men had worked up to their elbows in some poor sod’s intestines countless times before, but now that Edgar approached it with trepidation, the knowledge it was to be he cut open and gutted filling him with a fridged and agonising fear.</p><p>“Strip and climb onto the table,” Reid demanded, turning to lock the door.</p><p>“Do I take everything off?” Swansea whimpered.</p><p>“Are you not a doctor? Consider this a medical evaluation,” he answered coldly, grinning as Edgar anxiously complied. </p><p>Trailing after the smaller creature, the bloody dragon’s eyes lit with a sadistic curiosity. Working quickly, his claws went about pinning his creation to the table and securing his limbs in the blood-stained leather straps. Reid did not doubt that even a pathetic vampire such as Swansea could rip through them, but with any luck, he would soon be so drained of blood he would not be able to snap a mere thread. Running his fingers fondly over the collection of surgical knives, Jonathan could feel his fangs stretching themselves from their hiding place in his skull with the anticipation of tearing open his subject and being surrounded with his glorious crimson insides.</p><p>“This may pinch,” Jonathan chided, selecting a surgical knife. </p><p>“Do spare me your mockery-”</p><p>Pressing a glittering scalpel to pale skin, he dipped the razor tip into Swansea’s chest and dragged it down in a deep stroke, ending just before his hip. The scent of blood made Jonathan’s ears ring and almost drowned out the pitiful and pained screech that escaped his progeny. Quickly looking to silence the man, he snatched a rag and shoved it between the fanged jaws. </p><p>“We wouldn’t want the staff hearing you, would we?” he purred, dipping a finger into the bloody canyon he dug out of feeling flesh. As ekons, neither creature maintained the warmth of a living body nor a thunderous heart, which caused Swansea’s blood to sluggishly pool into a crimson lake staining his cold skin. A wicked idea crossed Reid’s depraved mind.</p><p>Suddenly dipping his head to the edge of the cut, he ran his tongue along the wound to lap up the Pembroke Administrator’s delectable blood. Tasting far from the ecstasy derived from the hotness under a human’s skin, Reid still relished in the flavour of his progeny for it was sweeter than any other ekon’s. Recalling Edgar’s feverish lapping on the night of his turning sent a thrill down Jonathan’s spine as if he could taste his bloodline upon his lips. Humming in satisfaction, he pulled his mouth away to be met with his progeny’s stare, an expression of fantastical fear and delighted pleasure at witnessing his audacious display. </p><p>Before Swansea could think much of it, however, clawed fingers suddenly began tugging apart the flaps of skin, ripping it away from the soft and precious tissues below. Screams muffled as his vision went white and his brain drowned as his skull filled with radio static. Every inch of his person lashed about in self-preservation, trying to escape the perversion of being slowly split open like a lamb of sacrifice. Tensing, ever muscle filled with a burning agony, but before he could pull away from the leather straps, he could feel a sudden heavy weight upon his lap and holding his wrists down. It would not let up until Edgar’s mad thrashing eased onto muffled whining. Peeling his eyes open he could see his sire sitting upon his lap, one knee holding his legs, the other atop his chest, and clawed fingers wrapped around his wrists. The expression upon Reid’s face was a mixture of mild amusement and boredom.</p><p>“Ready to behave now?” Jonathan cooed, freeing one of Swansea’s wrists leaving him restrained by the straps to run a hand across his neatly shaven cheek and tugging out the gag. “My sweet progeny.” The dragon dipped his bloodied fingers into Swansea’s mouth and pressed his forefinger on his tongue, giving the man a brutally brief taste of his blood before shoving the cloth back into his mouth. “Don’t you love the taste?”</p><p>Face contorting into confusion, Edgar bit back the urge to retort as he attempted to make sense of the predicament he currently occupied. While enthralled by Reid, cherishing every morsel of attention, his sire’s behaviour was at the very least vexing. Was Jonathan attempting to tease him, or were his actions formed out of his morbid curiosity?</p><p>Swansea’s queries would remain unanswered and be quickly forgotten, for Reid had already dismounted his progeny and was now toying with a knife, albeit if it were a fresh blade or the original that had carved into his flesh and Reid had licked it clean. Going about his business above the operating table the visage of the red-eyed monster could have easily slipped into the suave and prestigious doctor of days past if Edgar allowed the delightful delusion that took hold of the doctor’s patient to do him the same. Alas, even in life the fanatic understood enough to see past such illustrious illusions the son of perdition masqueraded behind. </p><p>Leaning over his subject, leering like a predator over prey, the good Doctor Jonathan Reid slid his clawed fingers over the drooling slit that spilt his progeny open. The methodical and surgical precision honed in life followed the ekon past his death; it was with the careful hands of a physician that sunk into the squirming intestines of the hospital administrator. Despite having claimed such destruction of boundaries and mutilations were a mere exploratory experiment, the sadistic grin stretching across Reid’s face told a far different tale.</p><p>Wrapping his fingers around the soft tubing Reid tugged the string from its spool, unravelling the intestines from their tightly wound holding. Twisting sluggishly around his palms, the slick internals moved more lazily than those of a human, hardly making an effort to escape the surgeon’s hands as he hung them on the nearby rack. Before he abandoned the organs, however, he took a moment to squeeze Swansea’s insides, feeling the slick lining flex as the lukewarm contents shifted under his grip. Pressing a claw to the rubbery casing, he slowly sliced it open and with a little pressure released the refuse before leaving the dripping guts to wipe his hands on a rag.</p><p>“Slower than a human’s would be. Aren’t you curious about how blood consumption affects your stomach?” Reid hummed, reaching for the organ and tugging on it. Briefly looking to his progeny’s colourless face while sinking a scalpel into the inflated organ, inciting a muffled scream as thick fluid drained into the abdominal cavity. A mixture of blood clots suspended in slime, it stuck to the doctor’s fingers and felt like slurry. Using a rag to soak up most of the mess, he left the deflated bag in place. “I shall not waste my time suturing a vampire.”</p><p>Glancing to the awaiting instruments, he carefully brushed his fingers over each until selecting a raspatory and clearing away the membranous periosteum. Glistening under the lights, the pink tissue laid helplessly, deep dark tantalising veins traversing the membrane shifted as it was peeled away from the sternum to clear a path to the ribcage. Trapped beneath bone and cartilage lay a pair of lethargic lungs, rising and falling occasionally. Beside them lay the hebetudinous heart, no longer a thunderous beast that pounded against its prison bars, now only offering languid leaps and phlegmatic palpitations far below a living pulse. Traversing through the ventricles and valves was thickened and congealed blood, cumulating together from stolen bodies at the corpse’s core. </p><p>Grasping for the rib cutters, Jonathan’s eyes remained focused on the bloody scene before him. Having seen a body splayed open without yearning to press his lips to the pooling blood was a luxury now lost to the ekon. Cold metal pressed to his tepid fingers as he opened the costotome’s jaw, his own ached with desire, begging to the same. Grasping a rib, the vampire resisted his urge, closing the cutters with a gratifying crunch punctuated by a muffled scream, snapping the rib into two. Moving onto the next and each thereafter Reid slipped into a methodical rhythm until he was simply able to move the sternum aside, revealing the vibrant chest cavity below.</p><p>With a pair of forceps, the good Doctor Reid teased the pleural membrane coating his co-worker’s lungs before sloughing off the sticky mucus-like substance. Caressing the pink tissue of the right organ, he felt its slight ministrations, reminiscent of the air that once inflated them. Sliding a claw over the surface and splitting it open to reveal the bronchus tubing, running through like burrows made by worms. The surrounding tissue showed signs of age, having gone grey and jellied. Sliding his fingers into the lung, he breeched and fingered the delicate tubing that once served his dear friend. Tenderly, he cut the lung free and hauled it from twitching body below, as if ripping the wing off a butterfly. Having lost the energy to scream, his overwrought mind and body reduced Swansea to choking on his sobs.</p><p>	Feeling hands moving inside of him, pulling him apart like a child’s doll was far worse than the torture he suffered by McCullum’s men. Claws or knife, he no longer knew nor cared what carved into him. Jonathan’s comments while playing with his organs were lost to a pounding in his head. Perhaps it was his immortal condition, but he felt every stroke of Reid’s hands as his own body grew weaker and weaker. No longer could he recall who he was while a hand squeezed his liver like a sponge, bruising the tender flesh before roughly shredding it. What monster loomed above him, whispering sweet words he could not make sense of while groping his kidneys.  Wrapping around a bean-shaped organ, fingers pulled tightly forcing tension upon the rubbery surface. With a slight of the hand, a fraction of increase in pressure the kidney ruptured and burst into a gelatinous mess. The imprint left in the surrounding tissue remained in place, cupping the bright red and yellow goop that pooled from the deflated organ.</p><p>	Sense was lost to Edgar as an overwhelming crimson haze flooded his brain, spurred on by a touch to the heart. The smoke poured past his bared fangs and emptied into the operating theatre, the air becoming heavy with the scent of his blood and intestines spread on a table, held by the parasite whose blood once poured into his and wanton maw left his throat yearning. Begging to feed his jaws stretched wide, murderous teeth displaying their desire as his head thrashed about upon the table. Whatever sentience that his skull once harboured withered away to animalistic instincts. Muscles tensed and strained against their bindings as they blindly searched for the solace of some measly thing to cling to. </p><p>	Crashing with a thumb pressed into the centre of his still-beating heart, Edgar Swansea drowned in an abyss of nothingness as his maker sucked the blood off his fingers.</p><p>---</p><p>Geoffrey McCullum, the man who had the daylight and his breath stolen from him by the depraved Doctor Reid returned to the place of his death hoping to end the murderous dragon’s reign. Dodging what little security the hospital had, he picked a lock and dove into what he assumed was some poor office, but the stench of blood that surrounded him told him otherwise. Turning to the operating table, he nearly vomited at the sight of the hospital administrator splayed out. Intestines hung from a rack like a macabre curtain. A punctured lung sat atop a pile of viscera and mucus on a tray. </p><p>Stepping closer, he eyed the heart holding the ekon alive. Whether acting out of mercy or otherwise, he knew not, as he sunk the stake into the muscle, watching as it seized once before ceasing to palpitate.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope it was not too disgusting; I would adore hearing your thoughts!</p><p>Comments and kudos are the coal that keeps my steam engine heart writing.<br/>Constructive criticism is always welcome; I strive to improve.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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